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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128153">Proprioception</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentReverie/pseuds/MalevolentReverie'>MalevolentReverie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MalRev’s Short Stories [39]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breeding Kink, Coach/Player Relationship, Complete, F/M, Freshman Rey, Monthly Prompt, Older Man/Younger Woman, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Prompt Fill, Rough Sex, Straight up rape, Teacher-Student Relationship, Two Shot, Unsafe Sex, Volleyball Coach Kylo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:07:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,637</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128153</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentReverie/pseuds/MalevolentReverie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey is a high school freshman who has to pick an extracurricular activity. Volleyball is all that’s left. She and her coach hate each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>MalRev’s Short Stories [39]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1201513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>644</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">

        <li>
          Translation into Русский available: 
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26461054">Проприоцепция</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tersie/pseuds/Tersie">Tersie</a>
        </li>


    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the first day of high school, Rey trips walking up the stairs.</p><p>Pretty bad start: skins her knees and people walking by stare and laugh and she thinks one guy takes a picture. She <em>was </em>hoping to blend in—after all, her high school is pretty big—but now she’ll be forever remembered as the girl who tripped walking upstairs. It will probably turn up in the yearbook.</p><p>Embarrassed, Rey dusts herself off and almost trips again in her haste to get inside the building.</p><p>It’s detached from the middle and elementary schools, bigger and louder and smells like someone’s cheap perfume or cologne. She clings to the wall as she walks the path she practiced on Friday afternoons before walking home: she prefers to be prepared instead of jumping in blindly.</p><p>She wanders along the wall, avoiding teenagers who somehow seem much bigger than her, trying not to be noticed even though her knees might be bleeding. Her schedule is memorized and she already found the classrooms she needs to go to; already knows the names of the teachers. This will be fine. The only big difference is a locker and no recess.</p><p>Rey’s locker happens to be near the end of the first floor with most of the other freshmen. She recognizes a couple classmates but her best friend Rose went to a private school so she’s kind of at sea. Alone.</p><p>She rubs her thumbs on the straps of her backpack when she finds her locker, right next to Poe Dameron’s for some reason. Someone is leaning on her locker talking to Poe—someone tall in track pants, someone who looks like a teacher. Gym maybe. He’s wearing sneakers.</p><p> “Melanie is getting you a math tutor,” the stranger says. His back faces Rey. Deep voice. “If you don’t keep your grades up you can’t play sports, Dameron.”</p><p> “I know, I know.” Poe grabs a single book from his locker. He’s in eleventh grade but used to hang out with Finn sometimes, another old friend who went to a different school.</p><p>The tall man shifts his stance and keeps talking. Rey checks her plastic watch with stars on it and chews her lower lip. Gonna be late for home room.</p><p>She clears her throat. “Um… excuse me?”</p><p>They keep talking so she summons up the courage to clear her throat again.</p><p> “Excuse me, that’s my locker.”</p><p>Poe finally glances at her and back up to the teacher. He turns, slowly, arms crossed over his chest: he’s pale, tall, kind of mean-looking. Looks like a football player. He’s wearing all black and it makes him more washed-out and creepy.</p><p>Rey points helplessly. “Sorry, but I’m going to be late for home room. Do you mind, sir?”</p><p>Poe snorts and laughs. The teacher doesn’t really glare but gives her a blank, bored stare, like he can’t imagine why she’s bothering him, and Rey reddens. Jesus. This is the worst first day ever.</p><p>People pass by, shoes squeaking on the floor. The teacher’s eyes roam down to Rey’s knees and back up to her face in a judgmental, languid way.</p><p>He rolls his eyes as he looks back at Poe. “It looks like I’m in Grace’s way so I’ll see you around.”</p><p>Grace? Rey frowns as he shrugs off the locker and makes a sarcastic gesture towards it before wandering off down the hall. Her name isn’t <em>Grace</em>.</p><p>Poe shuts his locker and spins the lock, still laughing as Rey sets her backpack on the floor.</p><p> “He’s such a dick,” he says, laughing away as he leaves.</p><p>It’s not really that funny, Rey thinks as she fishes her combination from her pocket. He’s a teacher. He should try to be a little nicer.</p><p>—•—</p><p>The rest of the day goes smoothly. Rey finds her classes without any issues and goes to the bathroom during math to clean off her knees. No one is blocking her locker when she stops by to switch books. She’s not going to be one of those people that carries their books everywhere.</p><p>Her objective is to blend in to the crowd—skate by without attracting attention until graduation.</p><p>Unfortunately she has to pick an extracurricular activity, like art club or math club or something, and it’s slim pickings. She scans the sheet from her guidance counselor while she walks home from school, realizing with dread that most clubs are already filled. Oh no. Can’t she do chess club? Book club? How is book club already filled?</p><p>Rey pauses at the corner of her block, chewing her dry lower lip. Two options: modified volleyball or basketball—and she’ll definitely suck at basketball.</p><p> “Fuck,” she mutters. She shakes her head and lets it fall back with a groan. “Fuck.”</p><p>—•—</p><p>Being forced to play a sport isn’t super ideal, and Rey banks on being benched for most of the games. She signs up the next day and her guidance counselor seems super stoked about it and says volleyball is really fun. Hiding in the back of the book club would be fun.</p><p>Anxiety grows throughout the day. What if they laugh at her? What if she gets kicked out? How will she afford the uniform or get to the games? Do they have a bus to bring everyone? This sucks. This really sucks.</p><p>She texts Rose to complain on her way to gym for practice after school. Rose has made some new friends and wants to hang out over the weekend, which should be great, but it just makes Rey kind of jealous. She’s hiding and ducking and sticking to the walls and Rose is already settling in.</p><p>Tears well up and she quickly wipes them away. It’s fine. This will be fine.</p><p>Rey peeks into the huge gym and hears squeaking sneakers and the dull thump of someone hitting a ball. She edges inside, following the sound around the red bleachers to a big group of girls already out hitting the volleyball around, some chatting and not paying attention. They’re all dressed for practice and have their hair back and sweatbands on and Rey gets a quick stroke of fear. Uh oh.</p><p>A whistle blows. “Molly, Shanon; can you fucking pay attention?”</p><p>Fear surges at the familiar voice. Uh oh.</p><p>One of the girls notices Rey and brightens at that very moment, pointing. No, no—</p><p> “Mister Solo, the new girl is here!”</p><p>Rey winces as all the other eyes in the gym turn to her, unprepared and cowering behind the bleachers. Great. This is great.</p><p>Their eyes are quickly pulled away though, and loud footsteps come down the edge of the bleachers. The girl who noticed her lowers her arm and turns away to whisper, then the rude gym teacher is suddenly in Rey’s line of sight and she jumps back in surprise.</p><p>He’s annoyed—still tall and pale, but now with a weird ponytail. He raises his eyebrows at Rey’s blank stare and she tries to babble out something; anything. He coaches girl’s volleyball? Why was he talking to Poe? Does he coach boys too?</p><p> “Melanie told me you’d be here,” he says. His dark eyes feel extra judgmental. “On time and prepared.”</p><p>Rey can only manage a nervous laugh. “Sorry? I didn’t realize modified volleyball was such a big deal.”</p><p>Someone snorts a laugh and the other girls quickly shush her. The gym teacher—Mr. Solo—raises his eyebrows so high it looks like they might go into his thick black hair. He’s wearing another one of those mismatched outfits gym teachers <em>always </em>wear. Hasn’t anyone told him how pale he looks in black?</p><p> “I think spending practice lapping the gym in your jeans should enlighten you, Grace.” He snaps his fingers and points. “Go ahead.”</p><p>Rey <em>wants </em>to argue, and it bubbles in her throat, but he looms over her and glares and she just mumbles and does what he says instead. Her name isn’t <em>Grace</em>.</p><p>—•—</p><p>Volleyball practice is twice a week on Tuesday and Thursday and it’s routinely the worst part of Rey’s week.</p><p>On the second day of practice Mr. Solo throws her home and away uniforms stuffed in a bag at her when she passes his office to head for the locker rooms. She glares at his empty doorway, bending over to pick up the scattered clothes, and decides that she really doesn’t like him. None of the girls do. He’s mean.</p><p>By the third week things haven’t improved much, and Rey is pretty sure she sucks at volleyball. Her teammates are nice and they try to help but Mr. Solo will blow his whistle and bark at them and they’ll scatter. He stands on the sidelines with his thick arms crossed over his chest, always wearing black or gray and red sneakers, whistle between his lips. He takes this shit way too seriously.</p><p>Kaydel, the girl who pointed Rey out on the first day of practice, is especially friendly and patient. She’ll sneak over to help when Mr. Solo’s back is turned or they’re just hitting the volleyball around.</p><p> “I can help you find better shorts,” she says, glancing at Rey’s ill-fitting basketball shorts. “Macy’s has them for like the bucks a pair. Bazine can drive—we could get pizza?”</p><p>Her friendliness makes Rey wary. She shrugs, suspicious but kind of hoping to fit in and make friends, and Kaydel waves over Bazine. She’s pretty. She’s going to a dance with a senior.</p><p> “Rey says she’ll go shopping Friday,” Kaydel says. “Can you drive?”</p><p>Bazine sets a hand on her hip and nods. Her hair is up in a high ponytail—how do girls do that?</p><p> “Sure. Or I’ll make my mom bring us.” Bazine rolls her eyes. “I don’t want to get caught driving without a license again.”</p><p>They laugh and Rey does too, awkwardly. Right. Bazine has to be fourteen or fifteen; she can’t have a permit. Also—Rey doesn’t have <em>any </em>money.</p><p> “Um… I can probably get shorts,” she says. “Money is kinda tight.”</p><p>Bazine laughs and so does Kaydel and Rey’s face heats up. Okay. What, is she supposed to be rich?</p><p> “I’ll grab my mom’s credit card.” Bazine waves her off, still laughing. “No big deal.”</p><p>Mr. Solo blows his whistle. Rey stiffens and she catches Bazine rolling her eyes, not even glancing his way as she turns on her heel.</p><p> “He’s so annoying,” Kaydel mutters. She smiles and waves. “Come practice with us, Rey. I’ll show you how to spike—we’re not supposed to in modified but whatever.”</p><p>Bazine and Kaydel take a few minutes showing her how they spike, each hitting the volleyball at least half a dozen times. It looks hard but Rey throws the ball up and tries it anyway—and Mr. Solo immediately blows his whistle.</p><p>Everyone stops. It seems extra loud this time, and Rey winces as she looks toward him.</p><p>He has his arms folded, whistle still in his mouth. He pulls one arm free and points a thick finger directly at Rey, slowly twisting his wrist to beckon her to him. Uh oh. That can’t be good.</p><p>Bazine scoffs. “Mister Solo, we were <em>all</em>—”</p><p> “Miss Niima.” He interrupts Bazine, calm and cool and sort of scary. “You can sit with me for the rest of practice if you can’t follow the rules.”</p><p>It really <em>isn’t </em>fair but Rey doesn’t want to get her new friends in trouble. Both of them give her apologetic smiles before she hurries through the silent group of girls to the section of the bleachers Mr. Solo has pulled out for his crap. He doesn’t look at her but points and Rey clenches her jaw as she sits.</p><p>Practice resumes. It’s fine. She wanted to sit on the bench anyway. Right?</p><p>Rey risks a peek at her coach. He’s watching the girls with the same steely, unnecessarily irritated expression he always has. He must be old. Thirty. His index finger has a pale spot like he used to wear a ring but she heard he’s divorced. Big surprise there.</p><p> “Plan on staying after school Friday.”</p><p>He still doesn’t look at her when she speaks. Rey scowls.</p><p> “I’m hanging out with—”</p><p> “Too bad. Now you have detention.” He shifts his stance, rubbing his nose. “You’re going to help me set up my health lecture for the juniors.”</p><p> “That’s not fair.”</p><p>Mr. Solo slowly turns to look at her, eyebrows raised. Sneakers squeak and some mingled shouts float through the gym, volleyballs glancing off the floor and walls. Rey tries holding her glare but falters, wilting under his penetrating dark eyes.</p><p> “…Fine,” she grumbles.</p><p>He resumes watching the team, gaze lingering on Rey until the last possible second. He’s such an asshole.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>love the build up in this one idk why</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Friday rolls around and Rey drags herself to school.</p><p>The good thing is: Kaydel and Bazine think she’s even cooler now for not trying to blame them for the incident at practice. They even gave Rey their cell phone numbers and they’ve been texting back and forth all week—she even sits with them at lunch. It’s nice to have friends.</p><p>On Friday afternoon they make plans to pick Rey up Saturday morning to go shopping, so detention doesn’t seem so bad. Kaydel and Bazine hug her goodbye and she heads through the quiet hallways to the gym to meet Mr. Solo. The jerk.</p><p>Staying after is always weird. Rey has never been the type to have detention or anything; she only ever stayed after to help teachers she liked in elementary school. It was a good excuse to avoid going home to her foster dad.</p><p>Now it doesn’t really matter. Unkar is never home anyway.</p><p>She peers into the gym and shuffles down the hallway to Mr. Solo’s office around the corner. There are a couple others for the handful of other coaches and PE teachers but only his door is open, light spilling into the hallway. His keyboard clacks loud enough for her to hear ten feet away.</p><p>Rey wanders closer, arms folded. She glimpses him sitting at his computer and pauses there, waiting to be acknowledged. She’s here, even though it’s not fair and doesn’t make any sense.</p><p>Mr. Solo is in his usual outfit: black on black, but today he has a gold chain around his neck. He glances at Rey and beckons her, clicking around on his computer as she ambles into his office. He has his hair in a half-bun and his collar up. Douchey.</p><p> “I’ve got a bunch of shit in the back room,” he says. “Going to set it up right out on the gym floor.”</p><p> “Okay.”</p><p>He stands, grabbing a set of keys from a drawer. His desk is a mess of papers and an overfilled mailbox. He has a framed picture of a black lab with it’s tongue hanging out but nothing else personal.</p><p> “I like your dog,” Rey attempts as he ushers her out of the office. “How old is he?”</p><p> “She’s eight.” His keys rattle as he locks his office. “You have a dog, Grace?”</p><p> “No. My foster dad is allergic.” She puckers her lips. “And my name is Rey.”</p><p>Mr. Solo looks down at her, breaking into a crooked smile. He points at her knees and she looks down, confused, then back up.</p><p> “Your skinned knees tell me your name is Grace,” he says.</p><p>He tosses his keys to himself, shaking his head and smirking as he turns away to lead Rey down the hall. She puffs indignantly but follows. Asshole. <em>Grace. </em>Just to make fun of her. That’s really nice.</p><p>They pass the locker rooms and keep going to the locked exercise room with all the expensive gym equipment. It’s a dark creepy hallway and Mr. Solo fiddles with his keys for a minute before he gets the door across from the exercise room unlocked.</p><p>He hefts it open and flicks on a light. It’s not very big, filled with all kinds of random stuff: those colorful scooters from elementary school, blue play mats, boxes of mesh scrimmage vests. It’s a cornucopia of crap, and it smells faintly musty.</p><p>Mr. Solo lets the door slam behind Rey and she jumps. He walks around her to a tall dark set of shelves with more junk on them.</p><p> “Sort through these pamphlets,” he says, heaving a box full of outdated pamphlets on to the floor. “I’ll set up the heavy shit. Everyone gets one on STDs, one on pregnancy, and one on safe sex.”</p><p>Ewww. Rey nods uncomfortably and takes a seat on a blue mat while Mr. Solo keeps rummaging around. He drops another box next to the first one.</p><p>He’s pretty busy while Rey works. He drags a projector out and a big screen, then he’s gone for a long time and she keeps making her bundles of pamphlets. It’s not so bad. She texts Rose and her new friends, lallygagging because she doesn’t actually want to finish her assignment. She takes a break to read the pamphlets and finds them outdated and creepy. Of course.</p><p>She flips through the pregnancy one, grimacing at the descriptions of childbirth. It’s just to scare people, but it definitely works on her. No thanks.</p><p>The door opens and she quickly closes the pamphlet, resuming her unpaid labor as Mr. Solo steps into the room. He closes the door behind him and turns the lock, and the sound makes Rey pause.</p><p> “Almost done?” he asks.</p><p>She shakes her head. “No, sorry. How many seniors are there? Maybe I have enough.”</p><p>Mr. Solo ambles over to sit beside her. He’s kind of close and she gives him a sideways look.</p><p> “Just do all of them,” he says. “It’ll save me the trouble in the future.”</p><p> “Oh. Okay.” She hesitates. “They’re kind of outdated? It’s only about straight cis people, and everyone in both pamphlets is white. Not very inclusive.”</p><p>Mr. Solo laughs. He drags the box closer and picks up a pamphlet on pregnancy to leaf through.</p><p> “We had these when I was in high school.” He flips from page to page and tosses it back in the box. “Thirteen years ago or whatever. Don’t think the school will buy new ones but you’re free to bitch about it on Tumblr, Grace.”</p><p> “Ha ha. Funny.”</p><p>He gives her a grin—he’s kind of charming in that way jocks can be—and Rey goes back to her task. Cool. She’s just going to be in detention until she’s dead.</p><p>They’re quiet for a bit, just working through the pamphlets.</p><p> “You have any sisters or anything?”</p><p>She glances up, confused. He’s still working and doesn’t look at her.</p><p> “…No?” she replies.</p><p> “Oh.” He shrugs. “Was hoping you had an older sister or something.”</p><p> “Why?”</p><p> “Just wondering.”</p><p>Her spine tingles. What’s he saying? What does that mean? It feels like he’s trying to get at something.</p><p>She picks up an STD pamphlet. “Just me and my foster dad. He doesn’t even care about where I am.”</p><p>Mr. Solo raises his eyebrows and looks over at her. She shrugs—it’s not super shocking. She’s never had a foster family that’s cared.</p><p> “Sorry to hear that,” Mr. Solo says.</p><p> “It’s fine. I’ll be eighteen in a couple years and I plan on moving out ASAP.”</p><p>He nods, slotting a couple pamphlets together and tossing them on the pile.</p><p> “Well if you’re in the neighborhood, come find me and Kira. She loves women.”</p><p>Rey pauses in the middle of what she’s doing, a thrill running down her nape. Come find him? When she’s eighteen? Why? What does he mean? Is he flirting with her? No, he hates her and she hates him.</p><p>Her heart pounds, fingers trembling as she reaches into the box for more pamphlets. Okay. Weird.</p><p>Mr. Solo doesn’t seem bothered. He reaches in at the same time as Rey and his fingers brush hers, kind of slow and deliberate, and she tries not to make a big deal over it. His fingertips are rough. He picks out his pamphlets and pretends nothing happened.</p><p> “You don’t need any of this stuff,” he says. “Right?”</p><p>She shakes her head. Her blood feels hot.</p><p> “Bazine and Kaydel are the types of girls who need to worry about STDs and pregnancy. Should be careful around them—wouldn’t want you letting some boy ruin your life when you’re sixteen.”</p><p> “I’m fifteen,” Rey corrects in a mumble, automatically.</p><p> “Right, right. Ninth grade.” Mr. Solo sighs, then he looks at her legs, slowly making his way up them before he meets her eyes. “Easy to forget you’re fifteen.”</p><p>She stares at him, confused and nervous, trapped in his dark penetrating gaze. What? What is he…? What does he mean? What is he saying? She must be interpreting this wrong—she doesn’t have a lot of experience with guys and Mr. Solo is a <em>man</em>.</p><p>Mr. Solo rolls his tongue inside his cheek. He doesn’t look away and anxiety curls in Rey’s belly.</p><p> “Why don’t I take you out for dinner once we’re done here? Since I wasted your whole Friday night.”</p><p>Her ears ring. “Out… out f-for…?”</p><p>He smiles, but it’s different than usual. His hand slides away from the box of pamphlets and settles on her upper thigh, curving inward, and Rey nervously shies away from the intimate touch.</p><p> “We can go wherever you want,” he says. He squeezes her thigh lightly. “Or I can make you something special at my place.”</p><p>Rey pulls her leg away, shaking her head. No. No, no. Now what he wants is super obvious.</p><p> “I should go home,” she mumbles.</p><p> “You <em>should</em>?” Mr. Solo cocks his head, frowning. “Don’t you want to come meet my dog? I think she’s going to like you.”</p><p>She’s still shaking her head, throat dry, legs shaking. This is terrifying. Nausea grows from a weird mix of fear and excitement—her coach is coming onto her, and she likes the attention but she’s petrified of actually doing anything with him. He’s big and gruff and smells like expensive cologne; he’s way beyond her. Something alien.</p><p>Mr. Solo seizes her wrist. He pulls, and Rey is stunned for a minute, just staring at him as he smiles.</p><p> “You want to think about this a little?” he murmurs. “I can take you out for a nice dinner, then we can go back to my place; do this in my nice big bed.” He yanks roughly and Rey whimpers. “I’ll bring you breakfast in bed in the morning, honey. Wouldn’t that be nice?”</p><p>She slaps him because she can’t get her wrist free of his vicelike grasp. Mr. Solo rolls his eyes and shakes his head, then shoves the box of pamphlets aside.</p><p>He’s strong—he drags Rey around, neatly avoiding her flailing legs. It’s terrifying being dragged like a rag doll but she can only manage another panicked whimper as he crawls between her legs, big body eclipsing the gently flickering light overhead. He smooths her hair back from her face with a broad swipe of his huge hand and rests his weight on top of her. She can’t move.</p><p> “I was thinking the other night—” Mr. Solo slaps her hand away and pins it forcefully beside her head. His other hand is somewhere lower and his lips are at her ear. “Since you’re all I can think about when I’m jerking off—I was thinking about how <em>hot </em>you would look with a little baby bump. Right between those hip bones you’re always flashing at me.”</p><p>Tears well up in Rey’s eyes. She shakes her head, too terrified to refuse. Mr. Solo kisses her temple and his hand moves to her jeans.</p><p> “No?” he mumbles, teasing. He nudges her temple and she flinches. “I think you’ll come around.”</p><p>He’s moving so fast that Rey can hardly react to any of it—and he’s <em>heavy</em>; so heavy that she can barely move. Every little struggle is ignored; every push against his ribs fades away. He pulls her jeans down to her knees and she feels his bare thighs against hers. Warm skin-to-skin.</p><p>Mr. Solo whispers in her ear. “Have you ever seen a cock?” She shakes her head stiffly, trembling, miserable, and he breathes out a soft groan. “Fuck. That’s so fucking hot.”</p><p>He spits in his hand. Rey’s eyes widen and she jerks when he smooths his wet fingers between her legs, casually pushing one inside her that’s soon followed by another. He shushes her gurgling shocked whines and gently pumps his fingers for a minute.</p><p>His hand withdraws and he spits on it again. This time he doesn’t touch her, but she hears slick wet wounds before she feels something new prodding her slit.</p><p> “N-No—no—” She shakes her head fast, squirming away. “Please—”</p><p> “Shh, shh. You’ll like this.”</p><p>It’s blunt and hot and thick. Rey sucks in a sharp breath when he keeps pushing, and it feels like he’s going to tear her open.</p><p> “Stop,” she breathes. Hands scramble on his ribs. He’s heavy. “Stop—stop!”</p><p>Mr. Solo kisses her jaw, lingering and biting. His voice is low, breathless and possessive in her ear.</p><p> “You’re all mine now, you little bitch.”</p><p>Rey grits her teeth and writhes but it doesn’t help. Mr. Solo keeps her pinned where she is, forcing himself inside her bit by bit and grunting in her hair. It’s a lot of pressure and tension and it feels like her body is going to tear in two the further he goes, but somehow she stays together, tears rolling down her cheeks. Nothing else comes but panicked whimpers.</p><p>He pushes in, rough. His hips press flush against hers and she dizzily realizes that he’s inside her all the way.</p><p>Mr. Solo kisses her cheek, then he takes her jaw and turns her head to kiss her lips. Rey jerks back—she’s never kissed anyone—and he follows, slipping his tongue in her mouth. He groans and rolls his hips. He’s fucking her now. She’s having sex.</p><p>He rolls her lower lip through his teeth, whispering, lips moving against hers. His mouth is wet.</p><p> “That’s it. That’s it. Arch your back a little for me, honey—want to get nice and deep.” Rey only manages to shake her head, sniffling. Mr. Solo murmurs and kisses her and she keeps her eyes squeezed shut. “But you’ll look so pretty with a little bump,” he coos. His hips pound against her, breath quickening. “Be a good girl for me, Rey.”</p><p>She whimpers, shaking her head. “Please—slow down—please slow down—”</p><p>Mr. Solo buries his face in her neck, shushing her whines and fucking her harder into the cold gym mat. It makes a lewd wet sound that mingles with Rey’s weakening protests and his breathless grunts against her skin. He nips and groans and she feels him twitch inside her.</p><p> “All mine,” he exhales, guttural. “Gonna fill you up, baby—knock you up.” His big body shudders. “Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—”</p><p>He pushes rough and hard and Rey feels his cock throb inside her. Mr. Solo gasps against her neck, hips twitching as he comes, and there’s a warm, foreign rush of fluid inside her. He’s finishing inside her, like she’s just an empty vessel waiting to be filled.</p><p>Then it’s over, just as suddenly and violently as it started. Rey is cold and shaking and sore between her legs, and Mr. Solo kisses her neck. He settles his hips closer instead of pulling out, nestling into the crook of her neck. He heaves a shaky, satisfied sigh, and Rey feels his spend oozing out of her.</p><p> “Good girl,” he praises. His lips wander along her throat and her lower lip quivers. “Don’t worry—I’ll make you feel good as soon as I get you in my bed.”</p><p>She stares over his shoulder at the ceiling and doesn’t respond.</p>
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